


something debonair

by martialartist816



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Smut, reminiscing over yibo's uniq days, wang yibo is pretty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martialartist816/pseuds/martialartist816
Summary: Xiao Zhan is the last of the CQL cast to learn that Yibo once had long blond hair. He also learns that he's been missing out.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan
Comments: 38
Kudos: 387
Collections: BJYX Prompt Fest 2020





	something debonair

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [bjyx_fest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjyx_fest) collection. 



> this was a great prompt because it made me remember my very profound reaction to seeing yibo's blond hair for the first time. i hope you like it!
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> Xiao Zhan discovers blond Wang Yibo during the early days of filming CQL and has a bit of a crisis.

_Wang Yibo: where are you_

_Xiao Zhan: yubin’s room. he’s sharing two cases of beer with everyone_

_Xiao Zhan: why? are you back already??_

_Wang Yibo: yes. i’m coming up_

_Xiao Zhan: aren’t you tired from your flight?_

_Wang Yibo: it takes a lot more than that to wear me out, ge_

Ji Li answers the door when someone knocks. Xiao Zhan knows without looking up from his phone that it’s Yibo. But he does lift his head when a shadow passes in front of him. From his position sitting on the floor, Xiao Zhan watches as Yibo crosses the room to take a bottle of beer from the rows lined up on the hotel room desk. He’s wearing purple track pants and a branded t-shirt. The cross-body bag slung over his shoulder tells Xiao Zhan that he’s come directly from the airport.

“How was Produce 101?” Ji Li asks when he walks back from the door.

Yibo plops himself on the floor next to Xiao Zhan, their knees bumping together, and twists the top off the bottle. He takes a swig before answering, and Xiao Zhan definitely does not notice the bob of his throat when he swallows.

“Boring,” Yibo says. “The trainees acted like they didn’t want to put the work in. They just want to be famous without having to try.”

“All trainees are like that,” Yubin barks from across the room.

“I wasn’t,” Yibo shoots before taking another long gulp.

Xiao Zhan tries and fails not to watch his mouth, the angle of his jaw when he throws his head back just a little. His own bottle sits nestled against the bend of his knee, half empty. He blames the cottony feeling in his head and neck on the fact that it’s his second bottle, and maybe he should’ve eaten a bit more for dinner before coming up for drinks.

Yibo’s hair is blue, though, Xiao Zhan realizes a bit belatedly. A nice dark navy shade. He’s still wearing makeup too, and Xiao Zhan resolutely does _not_ think that Yibo is pretty.

“They were girl trainees, right?” Ji Li leans his weight on the edge of the bed and stretches his legs out. He tips his own bottle in Yibo’s direction with a knowing smirk. “They were probably too busy lost in your eyes to focus on dancing.”

Yibo makes a show of batting his eyelashes like a girl, and various members of the cast around them wolf-whistle. Xiao Zhan takes another sip, not caring how the beer has gone slightly warm from his own body heat.

When Yibo looks at him, he props his cheek in hand, elbow balancing on his bent knee.

“Were you like that?” he asks, a lazy smile stretching across his lips.

“Lost in your eyes?” Xiao Zhan asks dumbly. He means it as a serious question because the minimal amount of alcohol in his system is already making his brain slow. But their friends find it hilarious, and even Yibo laughs and shoves at his shoulder.

“I mean as a trainee,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” Xiao Zhan blinks and remembers back to that time. “Well, no. I felt like I had to work extra hard to catch up with everyone else in the industry.”

“See?” Yubin says to Yibo. “They really shouldn’t have gone with such a pretty instructor if they wanted their trainees to focus. Those poor girls’ hormones never stood a chance.”

Yibo sends him a rude gesture, to which Yubin innocently holds his hands up in ‘I’m just saying’ fashion. Xiao Zhan hangs onto the relief that he’s not the only one in the room who thinks Yibo is pretty. It confirms that he isn’t being a creep. It’s just a fact, like saying the sky is blue or Wei Wuxian loves alcohol. Wang Yibo is pretty.

Looking at him now, all relaxed from the beer making its way into his system, Xiao Zhan allows himself to notice the softer things about Yibo’s appearance. When they first met, all Xiao Zhan could see about Yibo was his cold exterior, the wall he instinctively puts up in front of everyone. Even as they got to know each other over the last few weeks, Yibo was all about his hyper-masculine hobbies like motorcycles and skateboarding and hip hop. Maybe he’s a little late to the game, but Xiao Zhan now sees kind, bright eyes and plush lips pulled back in a stunningly casual smile.

And his hair.

Before he thinks not to, Xiao Zhan reaches up and plays with a few strands of Yibo’s blue hair. It’s still styled from filming with Produce 101, but it’s relaxed a bit in the hours and the flight since.

Yibo looks at him, and when he does, Xiao Zhan remembers his manners. Biting his lips, he draws his hand back.

“You had brown hair when I saw you yesterday,” Xiao Zhan gives as explanation for his touch.

“Yeah.” Yibo tugs on his bangs absently, then rubs his fingers together and shows Xiao Zhan how some of the color comes off. “It’s just chalk. It’ll wash out with a shower.”

“You didn’t want them to permanently dye your hair blue?” Xiao Zhan chuckles.

“It wouldn’t be the boldest styling I’ve done.” Yibo shrugs, lifting the bottle to his lips. His eyes float to the ceiling as he mentally backtracks. “I’ve done blue before. And red and blond. Extensions, tinsel. God, Yuehua even put me in cornrows once.”

Xiao Zhan whistles low and shakes his head with a laugh, unwilling to picture it. He’s unfamiliar with the demand for ever-changing style, his own management company keeping his hair color and style the same for virtually everything.

Their castmates had trickled off into their own conversations, but when Xuan Lu hears Yibo mention his hair history, she perks up.

“Are we talking about blond Yibo?” She’s sharing the tiny couch with Wang Zhuocheng, legs tucked up under her. Her eyes twinkle with excitement.

“No?” Yibo says.

“Can we be?” Yubin re-joins the conversation.

Xiao Zhan looks around the room and finds that everyone has tuned in. Their faces are eager, causing Xiao Zhan’s eyebrows to lift.

“Am I missing something?” Xiao Zhan asks Yibo, but everyone hears it in the suddenly quiet hotel room.

“Don’t tell me Xiao Zhan is immune to the power of blond Yibo,” Xuan Lu says in surprise.

He looks to Yibo for some sort of explanation, but the boy next to him just covers his eyes with a hand.

“I’ve never seen Yibo blond?” Is that so weird? As far as he can recall, Yibo hasn’t had a light hair color since filming began. That’s something Xiao Zhan would remember, he likes to believe.

“Oh, allow me to change your life, then.” Xuan Lu slides off the couch and pulls out her phone. Ji Li and Yubin crowd closer as well, and just like that, there’s a half circle of people rounding the hotel room floor to watch Xuan Lu’s tiny screen.

Out of the corner of his eye, Xiao Zhan sees Yibo take another long drink from his bottle. It could be a trick of his eye, but he thinks he catches the tail end of a self-satisfied smirk. Part of him thinks he’s about to see some ridiculous fan edit of Yibo with crazy hair, because that would be the only thing that would warrant so much buzz from literally everyone in the room.

Really, hair doesn’t have that much power.

Xuan Lu’s fingers type out a quick search, and she tabs over to the pictures and gifs section of the results. She pulls up the first on the page, a high-definition gif of what has to be a music video or something of similar production quality. The gif is a close-up of Yibo’s face, his lips parted and shiny, a dangling silver earring glinting in the camera.

Oh.

Xiao Zhan gets it. He gets it immediately.

Yibo’s hair is a golden blond color, reaching down to his jawline and styled to look tastefully messy.

His eyes are also half-lidded, making love to the camera, but Xiao Zhan can only process so many things at a time.

“Oh my god,” he says. His hand comes up under Xuan Lu’s phone, dragging it closer to his face. “Oh my god.”

Xuan Lu giggles and swipes to the next image. It’s another gif, this time of Yibo giving the camera a wink and a sweet smile. His hair is more carefully styled to smooth down the side of his face with one corner of it tucked neatly behind his ear.

Xiao Zhan’s jaw hangs open a little. He doesn’t know what it is about Yibo like this that keeps him from looking away. Yes, it’s the hair. But not just that. Maybe it’s everything together. Yibo looks so young here—of course he does; the gif is years old by now. The hair, the makeup, everything makes him look so _innocent_ and—dare he say, feminine. Xiao Zhan feels himself warm up, and he blames it on the alcohol.

Something tells him he shouldn’t be liking what he’s seeing quite as much, but Xuan Lu was right in her judgement. Xiao Zhan is not immune.

“Well?”

Xiao Zhan glances over to Yibo and finds him already looking, one eyebrow quirked in amusement. With his mouth still stupidly agape, Xiao Zhan does a double take between the Yibo on the screen and the Yibo in front of him. They seem like completely different people.

But no. The Yibo in front of him is the same person as the Yibo who shamelessly flirts with the camera like he knows what he’s making people feel. Like he knows he’s pretty.

Xiao Zhan closes his mouth with a click.

“You look good.”

Yubin claps Yibo on the shoulders, jeering. Yibo doesn’t want to settle with Xiao Zhan’s answer.

“Just good, Zhan-ge?”

Xiao Zhan scrolls through a few more pictures on Xuan Lu’s phone. The shock hasn’t worn off yet, and each new picture sends a wave of _something_ shooting through his stomach that he can’t or won’t put a name to.

Some of the pictures show Yibo in all his blond glory with his other bandmates. Seeing Yibo standing there among four other guys—older guys, Xiao Zhan’s brain provides unhelpfully—all looking much more masculine than their youngest member, dressed in pastels and unabashedly owning the winged eyeliner, it does something to him.

Xiao Zhan’s chest gives a tug.

“You’re hot,” he says around a dry throat. “As beautiful as a girl.”

“Finally, someone admits it!” Wang Zhuocheng groans. “I’m glad I wasn’t the first one to say it.”

Xiao Zhan ducks his head and swallows, looking at Yibo in guilt.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asks with a quiet voice.

Yibo brings the bottle up to his lips as he considers the question, holding Xiao Zhan’s gaze. When he goes to wet his lips, his tongue brushes over the rim of the glass.

“Not when I know how much you like it,” he goes with, and really, there has to be a coup to give Xiao Zhan heart arrhythmia or something. Maybe the zero-point-eight percent of alcohol in his blood stream has knocked him out and he’s dreaming. Xiao Zhan nudges his own bottle away from himself.

“Look at this!”

Xuan Lu leans into their shared space and pulls up a video of Yibo pretending to kiss one of the other boys from UNIQ. It’s all about the camera angle, Xiao Zhan rationalizes, but Yibo looks so confident with his pretty blond hair while guiding his friend’s hand to his hip.

“Holy shit, Yibo,” Xiao Zhan breathes.

“You know they make groups do stupid stuff for the clout,” Yibo brushes off.

“Oh my god, here’s another one,” Xuan Lu squeaks, and everyone hollers as Yibo shyly accepts a kiss on the cheek from one of his bandmates.

“‘Just for the clout,’ my ass,” Yubin gripes. “Look at how much he’s enjoying himself.”

“Yibo!” Xiao Zhan groans. “You were a harlot in your K-pop days!”

Yibo just cackles and takes a swig, neither confirming nor denying any of the accusations.

“Have you seen this interview—” Xuan Lu starts, but Xiao Zhan has had enough of that. He closes her phone screen and pushes it back into her lap.

“Please, go easy on me—”

“Oh, the one where the interviewer said she’d fall in love with me if she was a guy?” Yibo fills in. “That one’s a lot of fun to unpack.”

“Oh my god.” Xiao Zhan buries his face in both hands.

“Yibo is so cute, Xiao Zhan doesn’t know what to do with himself,” Ji Li points out.

A round of laughs bounces through the room. Yibo leans into him, giggling with everyone at his own expense. Or is it Xiao Zhan’s now? He suddenly understands how Wei Wuxian feels, betrayed by those closest to him. Xiao Zhan’s own friends, turning against him.

Mercifully, once everyone has wrung out the last dregs of the joke, they move onto other subjects. Someone brings up Yubin’s old KC-pop group, and the crowd turns its attention back to him, Xuan Lu armed with her bottomless cache of receipts on her phone.

Xiao Zhan feels more at ease when the object of teasing is someone else, though he can hardly settle with Yibo a warm and constant presence next to him. So Xiao Zhan abandons the rest of his beer and bids them all a goodnight, they do have to be up early for filming tomorrow, and who here has their lines memorized?

He thinks Yibo doesn’t even notice him leaving, but halfway to the door, he hears Wang Zhuocheng go, “Hey, you just got here and you’re already leaving?”

Xiao Zhan looks over his shoulder to see Yibo already standing. His first and only beer bottle is empty, but he’s steady on his feet. Vaguely, he remembers Yibo mentioned something about having a decent tolerance. Xiao Zhan will have to take notes, if the warmth in his belly and expanding lower is any indication.

“I had to film Produce _and_ fly back here in a day. I’m exhausted,” Yibo says.

Xiao Zhan turns back to the door and smiles.

_Liar_ , he thinks as he feels Yibo follow him out into the hall and across to their room.

Attached to the bathroom door is a full-length mirror, and Yibo stops in front of it as soon as they’re back in their shared room. Xiao Zhan thinks he’s going to just brush behind him, slip through the short hallway, and collapse into bed, but he makes the mistake of looking at Yibo through the mirror.

Pausing, he watches Yibo play with his blue hair, seemingly bent on separating the bangs just the way he likes. He catches Xiao Zhan’s gaze in the reflection and grins like he knows Xiao Zhan is going to make the first move. (Not that they’re counting, but Xiao Zhan is pretty sure Yibo has been egging him over the careful line of playfully friendly they’ve drawn for themselves over the past few weeks. Who can keep track at this point?)

Xiao Zhan leans against the wall opposite the mirror, watching over Yibo’s shoulder.

“Do you really not mind it?” he feels is a good, safe way to break the ice.

“Mind what?” Yibo asks, just to be coy.

“People calling you pretty.”

Yibo considers it for a moment. He’s since run out of hair that needs fixing, but his fingers still card through the strands.

“From the right people, it doesn’t bother me at all,” he tells the mirror.

Xiao Zhan’s eyes fall to his lips before he knows he’s doing it. Yibo stands close to the door, nearly making contact with his own reflection as he fusses over his own flawlessness.

“Am I the right people?”

Xiao Zhan can feel himself toeing into dangerous territory, but that’s part of what makes this new shift of the dynamic between them so exciting.

“You’re the right people for everything, ge.” Finally, Yibo gives up pretences of doing anything with his hands and just stands there, watching Xiao Zhan watch him in the mirror.

Tilting his head back against the wall, Xiao Zhan asks, “Do you think you’re pretty?”

That gets him a chuckle, Yibo’s eyes crinkling around the corners.

“Sure, sometimes.” He turns around, mimics Xiao Zhan on the opposite wall by leaning back casually. “I played it up a lot more around the time I debuted. I liked the attention I got for looking girly, with the makeup and hair and everything.”

“Well, ‘girly’ is…” Xiao Zhan doesn’t know what he wants to say. Not a bad thing? Something that suits you? But now he’s thinking about Yibo and that blond hair again, and he doesn’t trust himself to not say something incredibly forward and borderline inappropriate.

“It’s alright, Zhan-ge. I picked the styling,” Yibo says with an even tone.

“Oh,” Xiao Zhan breathes. Knowing Yibo went out of his way to grow his hair out and dye it blond does something new, something good, to Xiao Zhan sensibilities. He can’t put into words articulately, not even in the privacy of his own thoughts, how much he likes the idea of Yibo owning his androgyny.

“Did you like it?” Yibo levels him with a steady gaze.

“I said you looked good back in Yubin’s room.” Xiao Zhan goes for teasing even as he needs to swallow to wet his throat. “Wow, Wang Yibo, is your ego so fragile you need to hear it again?”

Yibo pushes himself off the door and steps up to him in one stride. Pressing both palms to the wall on either side of Xiao Zhan’s shoulders, Yibo cages him in, a wicked look in his eyes.

“Me looking good is objective,” he says. Xiao Zhan would roll his eyes if he wasn’t literally and emotionally pinned by him right now. “I wanna know if you liked seeing me like that.”

He’s giving Xiao Zhan a window—no, he's blowing out the whole damn wall. All that’s left is to cross the wide-open threshold.

“Yeah,” Xiao Zhan answers, voice low. “I liked it a lot.”

He waits just long enough to see Yibo’s satisfied smirk before cupping a hand behind his neck and pulling him in. Yibo’s arms collapse on themselves so he can dive all the way in, pressing into Xiao Zhan as their lips meet in the middle. Xiao Zhan thumbs at his jaw, the other hand settling on his lower back and dipping lower still. He stops at the waistband of Yibo’s track pants, fingers edging just underneath the elastic.

Yibo hums in appreciation, the vibration of his lips against Xiao Zhan’s making his head dizzy. He licks at those lips, feels them part just for him, and he should have known their first kiss was going to devolve so quickly into sloppily making out. Yibo’s hands do some wandering as well. One palm skirts over Xiao Zhan’s chest, feeling the soft fabric of his plain t-shirt, while the other sneaks into the back pocket of his jeans. Yibo rests against him, both of them supported by the wall.

Kissing Yibo is so, so much better than Xiao Zhan could have imagined, and he’s imagined it on more than one occasion. His lips are softer than they look, which should be impossible. It’s infuriating. It’s maddening. Yibo’s breath is hot in his mouth, tasting like beer. And his voice—god, his voice—husky and gorgeous when he gives little moans around Xiao Zhan’s tongue.

Yibo grinds forward, and Xiao Zhan can feel every inch of him as it comes. First, rolling against his stomach, those abdominal muscles are going to be the death of him. Then heat spreads from his hips outward when he feels Yibo’s cock hard through their clothes. Xiao Zhan won’t be far behind, no thanks to Yibo’s hand creeping up under his shirt, thumb brushing a nipple. The answering jerk of his own hips lets them both know how interested Xiao Zhan’s dick is too.

“Zhan-ge,” Yibo murmurs when their kiss breaks, mouth going for his neck instead.

Xiao Zhan lifts his chin up to give him more room as he focuses on catching the breath that got away from him. Yibo brings both hands to his center, working his belt and fly open faster than Xiao Zhan can blink. He kisses wetly at the skin over his pulse, mindful not to leave any marks. Xiao Zhan tries not to mourn over it. He can hardly dwell on it when Yibo’s hand is in his underwear, pulling the band down under his balls.

The warmth on his neck disappears in an instant when Yibo sinks to his knees. Xiao Zhan watches, almost not believing, as Yibo closes his fingers around the shaft of his cock and tongues at the head. His jaw hangs down, a low moan releasing from his throat. Yibo angles his head back to see Xiao Zhan watching him, and he grins.

“You can touch my hair and pretend it’s blond,” he says easily, one hand slowly dragging up and down.

“Fuck,” Xiao Zhan says weakly. He can’t even protest the bold statement because they both know yes, he would very much like to imagine his fingers threading through that golden hair. God, it was probably so soft and silky.

Returning to the task at hand, Yibo makes a show of slipping his tongue out and guiding Xiao Zhan into his mouth. The heat and the slide coax another moan from Xiao Zhan. Yibo looks up at him the whole time, until Xiao Zhan sinks a hand into his blue hair and gently tugs forward. His eyes then slip closed, and he hums in approval.

Yibo holds the base of him as his head starts slowly bobbing back and forth. Xiao Zhan can’t tear his eyes away from those beautiful lips stretched so nicely around his shaft. He would accuse his own imagination of running away from him, but there Yibo is, something out of a dream, enthusiastically sucking cock and being damn good at it too.

Blindly, Yibo takes Xiao Zhan’s other hand and brings it to his hair as well. Xiao Zhan adjusts to tangle all ten fingers in the faux-blue locks, and maybe he’s hallucinating, but it feels like Yibo is moaning in encouragement.

So Xiao Zhan gives an experimental pull. He feels so powerful, easily tugging Yibo’s head forward to take his dick deeper. Yibo moans again, and the sound goes straight to—well, goes straight between his legs.

Oh, so that was permission.

Less timidly this time, Xiao Zhan pulls Yibo’s hair and simultaneously arches forward into his mouth. His cock hits the back of Yibo’s throat, and they both let out a sound that might reach all the way out into the hallway. Yibo releases him from his hand in favor of bracing his palms against the wall to stay upright. He goes easily when Xiao Zhan tugs him forward to meet each thrust, and Xiao Zhan has such wild thoughts about fucking his throat that he feels himself leaking precome onto Yibo’s tongue.

“God, Yibo…” Xiao Zhan sighs.

He pauses just long enough to refit his fingers in Yibo’s hair for a stronger grip before picking up at a quick pace, chasing orgasm. The sounds escaping Yibo’s lips are obscene, wet and loud and minced by his keen whimpers like he’s begging for more.

Xiao Zhan is pretty sure he’s sweating through his clothes. There’s a tightness in his stomach that feels just on the edge of snapping, and it coils in his gut and pools low as he approaches climax.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” he warns as best as he can before the spring finally releases.

Tugging Yibo as close as he can get, Xiao Zhan shudders out a moan and comes hard and hot in Yibo’s mouth. Over the sound of his own panting, he hears Yibo gulp when he pulls free. The only evidence of Xiao Zhan’s release that hasn’t been swallowed glistens white and shiny on Yibo’s lower lip. They both breathe hard, and Yibo looks up at him with a slow blink. Xiao Zhan sees the obvious tent in the track pants that hide nothing, watching as Yibo absently goes to palm himself.

“Come here,” Xiao Zhan asks with a weak hand gesture for Yibo to stand. That’s about as much movement as he can manage for now.

Yibo gets to his feet and kisses Xiao Zhan like he’s starving. Tasting himself, Xiao Zhan cleans up the mess on Yibo’s mouth with his tongue, which, in retrospect, probably succeeds in cleaning nothing. But Yibo is too horny to care, evident by his insistent grinding against Xiao Zhan’s oversensitive cock.

Through the kiss, Xiao Zhan fits himself back into his pants and zips up. His hands then go to Yibo’s hips, holding him steady as his fingers seek out the bulge between his legs. Yibo shudders on contact, and what kind of person would Xiao Zhan be if he prolonged that neediness for much longer? As much as he regrets breaking the kiss, Xiao Zhan noses under Yibo’s jaw and places a sweet peck to the heated skin there.

He slides down the wall and lands in a squat. Fingers gripping the sides of Yibo’s pants, he yanks them down to his knees and quickly learns he isn’t wearing underwear.

“Yibo, holy shit.”

He doesn’t know what he’s holy shit-ing, though. Yes, the lack of underwear is a bit of a surprise, but also a very Yibo thing to do. Mostly, Xiao Zhan guesses, it’s the size of him now that it’s in front of his face.

“Something wrong, Zhan-ge?”

Xiao Zhan licks his lips and shakes his head. The fingers of one hand come up to wrap around Yibo’s shaft, hot and hard and already slightly damp.

“You’re perfect,” he assures. Like Yibo needs any reminding.

He angles his head back against the wall and looks up to Yibo’s face. Pointedly, he sticks his tongue out, jaw hanging open. Yibo’s eyes widen when he sees it as an invitation, and he quickly shuffles forward to oblige.

Xiao Zhan uses the grip he has on him to aim, but he allows Yibo to push the rest of the way past his lips and over his tongue. Yibo lets out a hiss of pleasure and sinks as far as Xiao Zhan will take him. He can’t get everything, but he compensates for the rest with his hand, circling around the base and pumping the shaft that’s left uncovered.

Yibo props his forearm against the wall and leans against it, looking down and panting hard as Xiao Zhan starts to suck. His jaw already twinges with a subtle ache just from accommodating Yibo’s girth, but that’s part of what makes it so hot. Yibo’s hips give little twitches forward, tentative, until he sees Xiao Zhan can handle more.

Blinking encouragingly up at Yibo, Xiao Zhan relaxes his throat as deeper thrusts start to come. Some saliva slips out and down his chin. Yibo bites down on his lower lip, eyebrows furrowing the closer he gets.

With a dick in his mouth, Xiao Zhan notices how Yibo is still beautiful, even like this. Even with pink cheeks and the pinched expression he wears as he rides out the pleasure. The look in his eyes is desperate, and he doesn’t break his gaze from Xiao Zhan’s the entire time, like he won’t believe it’s happening—they’re actually doing this—unless he sees it.

Xiao Zhan places his free hand on the front of Yibo’s thigh, feeling the muscle taut from his jerky movements. He hums praises, and Yibo curses.

“Coming,” he pants. “Coming—”

Xiao Zhan takes everything that’s spilled down his throat. When Yibo slips out of his mouth, he swears. Xiao Zhan wipes his lips with the back of his hand and laughs, standing.

When he’s in Yibo’s space again, Yibo tiredly drapes his arms over Xiao Zhan’s shoulders and slumps against him. Xiao Zhan drags Yibo’s pants back into place as a favor, then wraps his arms around his middle. They’re both sweating and heaving and gross, but it’s alright if it’s Yibo.

“My fingers are blue from your hair, you know,” Xiao Zhan says to break the silence.

“It’ll come out with a shower,” Yibo mumbles into his neck. “Come on, I’ll prove it to you.” And he tugs Xiao Zhan into the bathroom.

* * *

Xiao Zhan should be over the blond hair thing. He’s seen it, he’s expressed his appreciation of it, he’s gotten off to it. Really, it should be a one and done thing. Besides, Yibo’s hair color changes as often as the wind, so it’d be silly for Xiao Zhan to have a preference—a _fetish_ , he scoffs at—for one color over the other. And it only helps that Yibo looks good in anything and everything.

And he is over it, or so he believes. He doesn’t think about it again when filming kicks off the next day, with Yibo annoying him within an inch of his life as always. He doesn’t even think about it the next time they accidentally (on purpose) tangle themselves together in the sheets of their hotel room, or the time after that. Or the time after that.

Time passes so slowly and also tragically quickly when they’re on set, and before he knows it, Xiao Zhan hasn’t thought about Yibo’s blond hair in weeks. Too many distractions in his head and one beautiful distraction under his hands.

But then he has one of those days where he has to be on set for much longer than anyone else. As the main character, there are endless solo shots they want of Wei Wuxian. The rest of the cast is allowed to pack up and go back to the hotel after dinner, and not even the supporting role, Wei Wuxian’s stoic lover, is required to film as late as he is.

When Xiao Zhan is finally granted leave to shuffle his way back into his room hours later, he’s expecting Yibo to be playing games on his phone, blasting music with filthy lyrics, or sleeping.

What he comes home to instead is a sight that ceases all higher brain function and takes way too long to process.

There is a lot to look at, first of all. Most obvious is the fact that Yibo is on Xiao Zhan’s bed—not his own—completely naked with a hand between his legs. Both feet are planted on the mattress, knees bent, and Xiao Zhan can just barely make out the back and forth glide of Yibo’s hand. But, _oh_ , he’s not jerking off. Stepping closer, Xiao Zhan spots Yibo’s cock, hard and flushed, resting neglected on his stomach. The hand working himself is poised even lower on his body, two fingers shoved deep inside himself.

“Zhan-ge…”

Xiao Zhan drags his gaze up Yibo’s body, finding that Yibo has turned his head to the side to look at him, eyes heavily lidded. He smiles around gently panting breaths, and yep, there’s another thing Xiao Zhan’s brain needs to comprehend.

Yibo’s hair is blond.

It’s a streaky, dirty color, mingled with the natural brown notes of Yibo’s hair that Xiao Zhan swears had been there this morning. He doesn’t know when Yibo would have had time to dye it, and Xiao Zhan is pretty sure he doesn’t have any other shows or commercials to tape this week.

“Yibo, what—” he starts, then stops because he doesn’t know which question to ask first.

“Been waiting for you,” Yibo exhales.

Xiao Zhan’s eyes dart back down to the hand between Yibo’s legs. His wrist is bent elegantly to get a good angle, skin glinting from lube. He changes it up a bit, keeping his hand still and rocking his hips down instead. Yibo makes himself gasp, and Xiao Zhan runs his tongue over his bottom lip, transfixed. Yibo seems to thrive under his watch, and he rolls his whole body like the professional dancer he is.

“Wow.” Xiao Zhan’s voice catches, so he clears his throat and starts again. “Wow. You look like you’re having fun.”

“It would be more fun if you’d get over here,” Yibo says. “Unless you just wanna watch. That’d be kinda hot, actually.”

Right, right. Xiao Zhan cools his overheated thoughts and finally closes the distance between himself and the bed, losing his clothes along the way. As the layers come off, so goes the exhaustion of work. Yibo said he’d been waiting. Just how long has he been fingering himself, waiting for Xiao Zhan to come back? His cock looks desperate, aching for touch.

Kneeing his way onto the bed, Xiao Zhan comes to sit between Yibo’s bent legs. It’s such a good angle to be at. He can see up close the stretch of his rim around his wet fingers, his hard abs rising and falling with the shallow breaths he takes in. Xiao Zhan can also admire the softly blond hair like a halo around Yibo’s gorgeous flushed face.

“Yeah, well, this is hot,” Xiao Zhan says, palming Yibo’s knees before sliding his touch down his calves. “Your hair… How—when did you…?”

“Chalk again,” Yibo explains simply. “I had my stylist from Day Day Up send me some.”

“Did you tell her why?” Xiao Zhan quirks a brow up, grinning. He brings his hands back up the bend of Yibo’s legs, all the way to where his hips meet his thighs. His fingers brush _just_ next to his cock, causing Yibo’s breath to hitch.

“That I was going to use it to seduce my coworker? Of course.” Yibo chuckles, but it’s a fleeting sound, making way for another gasp when he digs his fingers in just a little deeper.

“Consider me seduced.” Xiao Zhan trails his fingers over Yibo’s wrist with the barest touch. They’re sitting so close that the back of Yibo’s hand bumps up against Xiao Zhan’s cock with his movements. Xiao Zhan looks down to watch as his fingers disappear and reappear rhythmically with the slow drag of his hand.

“Get over here and touch me, then,” Yibo growls. There’s no bite to it, though. Not with the way his mouth hangs open with need and his eyebrows crinkle together. He must have worked himself up a lot while Xiao Zhan was away.

Xiao Zhan leans down, all too eager to capture Yibo’s lips and drink down his panting and groaning. Yibo kisses him back hungrily, hips jerking up in search of friction. Xiao Zhan takes one of his legs in his hand, cupped under the knee, and draws it up to open Yibo up even more. He moans into Xiao Zhan’s mouth with the slight change in angle, and Xiao Zhan reaches between them to take Yibo’s cock in his free hand.

While he strokes lazily, Yibo’s hand speeds up. Xiao Zhan grinds into him, rubbing himself against the first thing he comes into contact with. Seeing Yibo so naked and horny had gotten him hard in the blink of an eye, though he’s nowhere near as desperate as the state Yibo has worked himself into.

“Zhan-ge,” Yibo breathes before sinking his teeth into his lip. Xiao Zhan increases the speed of his strokes to match the pace Yibo is setting. Yibo twitches in his hand, straining for release.

“You’re almost there,” Xiao Zhan whispers into his mouth. “I’ve got you. You just gotta come.”

Yibo moans harshly in the final moments before his pleasure reaches its peak. It’s the hottest thing Xiao Zhan’s ever seen, watching Yibo’s face go slack with orgasm, his own fingers massaging his prostate, Xiao Zhan’s name a quiet cry on his lips.

Backing up a bit to give him room to breathe, Xiao Zhan looks down to see where Yibo painted his torso with release. Yibo’s ribcage expands and contracts rapidly from the force of it.

After a moment of recovery—Yibo doesn’t really need that much time with that ridiculous stamina of his—he angles his head in want of another kiss. Xiao Zhan dips back down to seal their lips together and feels it when Yibo takes his fingers out.

He could almost forget about his own need for a minute. But Yibo takes that same slick hand and possessively cups Xiao Zhan’s ass with it. A pointed tug brings them together, and Xiao Zhan moans when his dick grinds against Yibo’s wet skin. Another hand touches him, fingers closing around the shaft and tugging. Xiao Zhan is helpless to rock forward into the heat of Yibo’s palm, already close to the edge.

Yibo swallows his gasps and slides the hand from Xiao Zhan’s ass up to his back, holding him close. Xiao Zhan murmurs into his mouth that he’s going to come, and he does, adding to the mess between their bodies.

He falls forward without even attempting to move to the side. Yibo takes his weight with an _oof_ , but the protest dies with that. He wraps both arms loosely around Xiao Zhan and presses kisses into his hair. Someone tangles their legs together, and Xiao Zhan has the sneaking suspicion it was himself, despite how gross their skin feels.

Breathing under control, he tips his head back and smiles tiredly at Yibo. He reaches up to card his fingers through that artificially blond hair because he really is obsessed at this point. Yibo can hold it over him for the rest of his life if he wants, and he won’t complain, not if Yibo will indulge him like this, even if it’s just to be a tease.

“Comes out with a shower?” Xiao Zhan asks.

“Mn. Wanna hop in with me?”

Xiao Zhan rolls onto his back and pulls Yibo with him so he’s laying on top. He lets out a giggle when Yibo eclipses everything in sight and tugs him even closer.

“Let me appreciate it a little more.” And he tilts up for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> my twt is [@shamu_who](https://twitter.com/shamu_who), where i am, unabashedly, a multi-fandom pile of trash


End file.
